


Date Night

by chucklingChemist



Series: Alternian Snapshots [14]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anxiety, Awkward Dates, Canon Typical Classism, Dinner Date, F/M, mild verbal abuse, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25585207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucklingChemist/pseuds/chucklingChemist
Summary: Dontoc Leiniz, relatively new resident of Sandyhorn proper now and in a relationship with the Heiress Apparent, is going on his fourth and ideally another successful date. But you know what they say about wearing rose tinted glasses and red flags.
Relationships: Dontoc Leiniz/Careen Elsker, Original Troll Character(s)/Original Troll Character(s) (Homestuck)
Series: Alternian Snapshots [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1260209





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> I...think this is the next one (in a wholly chronological sense) that I've written? It would've taken place after Dontoc came to Sandyhorn and moved in with Pallia, which I have written but several years ago and it's in desperate need of rewrites. And there's a few others stuck in a WIP phase between that and this, and possibly a couple fics that are posted but I'll need to comb over them again to be sure -- and if that's the case, thankfully editing series order is crazy simple. If there's any fic in particular you'd want to read before this, it'd probably be [Fuchsia Princess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628494), as the ending of it pretty much ties straight into here (what with Careen actually meeting him and all). But I'd like to think that's not necessary. 
> 
> Originally written in 2018, in fact just a little over 2 years ago. One day I'll remember to be regular about reposting all my old stuff, but that day is still not today apparently

Five times. Dontoc checked the door five times as he sat in the restaurant. Each time, he would crank his head around and stare frantically before dipping his head down to stare at his phone and resist sending the urge to send his date a message and ask if she was okay. It was only their fourth date, but he thought the other three went well. Certainly, at least, better than he imagined they would. They carried on a conversation with him making only six distinct socially awkward remarks that he recognized; he didn’t want to talk about his life when he was younger no matter how hard she pushed. Yet she seemed happy otherwise, and she had been the one who asked for the next date, not him. So there was no reason for her to blow him off…right? Or maybe there was, but he was unwilling to acknowledge it because he did like her. Though, maybe he liked her due to her obvious and immediate affections. Was that possible? **  
**

Dontoc sighed and checked his phone again. He received his fourth message from Pallia, asking what kind of flavors he liked in his drinks. An odd request, but he answered her immediately in an effort to take his mind off things. They sent back a few more messages, mostly him asking why she wished to know and Pallia being cagey. After three minutes, she logged off. He sent two more messages, one that apologized and pointed out she was under no obligation to tell him what was going on, followed by another apology for presuming that she was annoyed at him.

He drank one more glass of water and ordered his food by the time Careen showed up. She looked radiant, beaming as she sat down across from him. “Well, that took longer than expected! But what do you expect from such an undignified troll requesting a meeting? And at least I got here on time. Oh, and you look good, darling! Your hair is…” her voice trailed off as her eyes trailed over him. A shiver ran down his spine at her gaze, “messy but I can see it looking cute that way.”

Dontoc gave her a small smile. “Well, ah, actually, you are sixteen minutes late. Not that I was worried! I just checked the time. A lot. Does that sound as if I was worried?”

Careen didn’t answer. She took a menu off the table and scanned it before setting it back down with a sigh. “Oh, I forgot how tasteless landdwelling food is. We really should have met back at your home city!”

His smile faded. “You find the food tasteless? But I was under the impression this restaurant was of high quality. And Pa–”

“Yes, yes it’s excellent for a _landdwelling_ dining establishment. But for seadwellers? Well, let’s just say you have some odd affection for this food, and I’m appeasing.” She huffed. “Anyway, how has your evening been? Did anything interesting happen?”

He tapped his finger on the table, struggling to come up with anything to say that would be interesting. Certainly in comparison to some of the fantastic stories Careen would talk about, he had nothing. But staying quiet was ruder, and he imagined staying quiet due to determining what would be best to say was somehow worse. “Erm, well I do believe I acquired a moirail a few weeks ago. Or, more like two weeks ago. So…there’s that.”

Careen’s eyes lit up. “Oh did you enter a moiallegiance with one of the trolls you reside with? A moiallegiance is just as important as any other quadrant, and I’m so happy to hear you have one to help with your agoraphobia!”

He shook his head. “Erm, no, it is not with anyone there. And I have social anxiety, not agoraphobia. So long as I do not have to speak, I can exist relatively well.”

Careen nodded, shifting up in her seat so she sat up straighter. “Yes, well, perhaps, but that’s neither here nor there. But so, if it’s not one of them, who?”

“A young woman travelling through. Her name is–”

“Ah, my Heiress! What would you like on this fine day?”

Dontoc let out a surprised breath. Had he ordered? He couldn’t remember. But also, the waiter distinctly wasn’t talking to him. So he probably had. After all, slow service was more or less a staple of getting food with Pallia. If he just kept his head down and didn’t talk, he’d be fine. Probably. And if he didn’t order, well, it would be okay if he just didn’t eat. Then, if nothing else, he wouldn’t have to worry about embarrassing himself in front of other highbloods. All he had to do was avoid eye contact and–

“And what about my Heiress’ very important guest?”

Dontoc squeaked, burying his head into the menu and pretending to scan it. He had already checked the menu six times now. He knew what he wanted: a greasy looking, cheesy sandwich-esque food that he never heard of. Something from lowbloods. Yet, for whatever reason, the name of the food just wasn’t coming out. He knew it. He was staring at it just right now. But no matter how much air he forced out of his throat, he couldn’t muster up the courage to ask for the greasy lowblood food. There was no telling how Careen would react either. Despite how unlike many other highbloods she seemed to him, he had the odd instinct to keep quiet about all that.

“Dontoc, are you not hungry?” He jerked his head up out of the menu to match her gaze, her shiny pink bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “You didn’t eat without me, did you?”

“What?” He shook his head. “No, not at all! The thought did not even so much as intrude my decisions.” He dropped his head, running his fingers through his hair. “Why would I–?”

He stopped when a perfectly manicured hand grasped his wrist, stopping his hand as it threaded the hair between his horns. “Dontoc, honestly, you shouldn’t do that. It’s bad for your hair. And your image.”

Dontoc blinked harshly, staring as she leaned across the table. That didn’t sound right. Though, maybe things were different on land…however unlikely it was that neither Dontoc nor Pallia would have noticed an increase in damaged hair from his nervous habits. “It…it is?” He didn’t remove his hand from his hair until Careen slowly returned his hand back to the table, not releasing it but instead sliding her hand down until it rested gently in his own.

“Well, yes, it’s obvious to most anyone who cares about how they look,” she said flippantly. He opened his mouth to retort, but stopped when she smiled warmly and added, “and I know you’re so busy doing your important yet mysterious research you simply don’t have the time to check. It’s endearing, truly.”

Dontoc felt his face heat up as he turned away, stopping only when he saw the thin, tight lipped smile on the waiter who had to sit through the whole thing. “Ah…right. Thank you Careen. Now ah, if you do not mind…” he gestured back to the waiter.

“Oh!” Careen chirped in surprise. She sighed wistfully and batted her eyelashes. “Yes, right, you have such a bad tendency to distract me.”

Dontoc swallowed heavily in a poor attempt to placate his dry throat, turning towards the waiter with a sheepish smile. “My apologies. So ah…my order. I would like a…erm, how do you pronounce that?” He flipped the menu open and pointed to a picture of the food in question. If he wasn’t going to say the word in public, surely just showing the picture would suffice. “I would prefer not to butcher any formal language.”

“Calzone,” the waiter finished tersely. “At least, that’s the highblood term. The gutterbloods –” a sick feeling briefly passed in his gut, though due to the word or the brief flash of annoyance in Careen’s eyes he caught, Dontoc was unsure “–invented the dish and a different term, but we refined some qualities for our high class patrons, such as our fine Heiress.” As he spoke, his tone turned much lighter until it returned to its light, conversational tone with focus back on Careen.

“Hm…are you sure Dontoc? We’re at such a high class establishment, it only makes sense to eat like the caste we are.” She scanned the room, huffing and letting her pert fins droop at the obvious lack of seadwellers. “No need to appease the common rabble.”

“I am quite sure. I see no reason not to engage with the local cuisine.” He grinned. “It could be interesting.”

“Hardly anything I would call cuisine…” the waiter muttered quietly. Dontoc shifted closer to the edge of the chair and fought the rising flush to his cheeks. He couldn’t imagine the waiter meant for himself to be heard, and as such allowed him to speak. Or maybe the comment was to appease Careen. It did seem to make her smile to herself, so that made sense as well. Louder, he then added, “So is that all then? No other drinks?”

Dontoc silently shook his head, letting Careen do the actual talking to the troll for an additional few minutes about something he held no interest in. He checked his phone again, more to stare at something than anything else, to see two messages: one from Pallia, and the other from his newly acquired moirail. He flipped over to the former message first, holding back a smile as Pallia told him there was no reason to apologize and how he shouldn’t worry about the questions because she _would_ answer them, but she _really_ wanted to surprise him, complete with failed italics and hurried typos that she never corrected.

Before he had the chance to answer her however, his attention was diverted by Careen gently stroking the outside of the hand she held. The waiter had left, likely to go fill the orders. “Checking up on your moirail?” she asked.

“Well actually–”

“Which reminds me! I don’t recall congratulating you on becoming moirails with Pallia!” Careen laughed, the sound as bright as the sun. “She could truly benefit from having a troll who actually understands how upper trolls ought to behave.”

Dontoc stared at her. Pallia? The two were friends, but imagining her in the pale quadrant felt strange. The two of them didn’t act the way her and his moirail did. Not to say he wasn’t close with Pallia, or even that he couldn’t imagine being in a quadrant with her at all (said brief, passing thought to entertain her in a red quadrant made him feel unusually warm in a way he wasn’t going to acknowledge further), but their closeness was more friendly than it was about balancing the other. If anything, when the two _did_ get together, it resulted in less sleep from either of them as they stayed up far too late talking. “Um….I never mentioned anything about her. In fact, I could have sworn…hm, no.” He shook his head. “It is of little importance. But anyway, no, my moirail is not Pallia.”

Careen frowned, leaning forward to rest her chin in her hands. Her brow furrowed, pink eyes shut. A sinking feeling formed in his stomach - did he say the wrong thing? She couldn’t possibly be angry at _him_ right? - but right when he opened his mouth to speak, her loving gaze fluttered back to him. “Sorry. I just imagined better for her, is all,” she said with a shake of her head. “And certainly, she would benefit having an actual quadrant and not just lock herself away all day and night.”

Dontoc nodded, not in agreement but acknowledgement. “Ah, yes, right. I apologize…?”

“It’s not your fault she can’t get a quadrant,” Careen said with a huff. Then, in the blink of an eye, he watched her rather terse expression switch again as she brightened up. “So, anything else aside from improving some poor landdweller’s life?”

Dontoc’s face heated up. “Ah…well, her name is–”

“Your food, my Heiress and company!”

Dontoc couldn’t help it. He jumped in his chair, letting out an undignified yelp for his general tone of voice. The waiter snickered behind him, only making his burning cheeks worse.

“Excuse me, you are aware you’re laughing at the adored matesprit to the current _Heiress_?” Careen said sharply. Immediately the waiter stopped. He quickly served the two of them and hurried away without another word, rushed footsteps echoing the room.

“You did not have to do that,” Dontoc said. “I am sure reminding him it was unprofessional would have worked.”

Careen shrugged. “He should be more careful who he mocks.” She glanced down at his food, the brief look of disappointment obvious, but not unexpected. After all, ultimately she hadn’t been in Sandyhorn much longer than he had, and surely she came from just as pompous a city as himself. He imagined the only ones who would be open-minded were the ones actively trying to be unlike their home. And with Careen being a fuschiablood, loved by all…well, that was unlikely. “Even if your taste in food is just as uncouth as his behavior.”

“All the same, my thanks.” He smiled as he cut open his food, only getting a large enough piece to ensure all the flavors were there.

In Dontoc’s several sweeps underwater, one thing he always noticed was how, despite seadwellers having a constant immediate access to various spices and flavors landdwellers - and certainly lowbloods - had no permission to use, they rarely did. Seadwelling food tended to rely on a food’s “natural flavor” and it was an insult to the chef to add more. With Dontoc spending more time in libraries than with his classmates (so much to the point he skipped class at least once to read from his book of unedited lowblood wiggler’s tales instead), he noticed just how different the landdwellers described their food. Words and colors he couldn’t imagine were paired with even a simple fish dish. But living in the ocean, while there was a degree of curiosity, Dontoc was content not knowing what he was missing out on. But if he had the opportunity now, there was no reason to not take advantage of it and eat bonafide lowblood cuisine.

Right when it touched his lips, his whole face lit up in joy. It was surprisingly oily; he could taste it in his mouth and on his lips. Behind that was salt and tomato and some sort of spicy meat he didn’t recognize. And the gooey, soft melted cheese was interspersed to help cut down the spice without reducing flavor. All of it was covered in a perfectly cooked crust, crunchy on the outside but soft after the first bite.

It was, without a doubt, one of the best things he tasted.

It enraptured him completely. For a brief moment, all he cared about was the food on his plate and the salty taste on his tongue.

“Dontoc…”

He stopped mid-chew of his piece, hurriedly clamping his mouth closed, as Careen’s voice cut through the air.

“Hm?”

“You’ve been silent for so long. Like a few whole minutes! I was getting so worried, since we were talking so much, you know?” She sighed lightly, placing her head in her hand as she watched him, soft smile on her face.

“A few…” he swallowed whatever food was in his mouth too early in surprise, forced to feel the sharp pain as it went down. “A few minutes? Really? Goodness, I had no idea. I ah…well, must have been far hungrier than I perceived myself to be.” He looked down at his plate, and sure enough, in comparison to a pretty plate of grilled swordfish topped with some kind of tomato salsa, her plate was virtually untouched aside from a few bites. His dish, meanwhile, had half disappeared. “Are you ah…are not not hungry?”

“Hungry?” She blinked a few times. “Well yes, we are at a fine dining establishment.”

“But you have not touched your food,” he said.

“I am _Heiress_ ,” she said. As she spoke, she rose out of her position to daintily grasp the fork. “And the only one truly descended from Her Imperious Beguiler. As such, refinement is necessary for anything close to me. Including food.”

“Oh. Ah…uh…apologies.”

“Don’t be.” She eyes flitted between her and the food. “Would you…do you wish to try a piece?”

“I ah…” He smiled. “Sure.”

With perfect precision, she got a piece of swordfish onto her fork and leaned over to him. He may not have had a flushed partner before, but he knew enough about what was going on. He opened his mouth right as she approached, letting her slip it between his lips. It tasted well cooked - certainly not overdone, by any means at least. He wasn’t chewing rubber, nor was he tasting exclusively char from the grill marks. It was on the dry side, certainly, but anything in comparison to the greasy calzone would taste a little dry. But it was _bland_. There wasn’t much in the way of seasoning, not that he could taste at least, and the tomato salsa was so mild it added more color than anything. Still, when he finished eating he gave a polite nod in affirmation.

“It was well cooked,” he noted. “Perhaps not my preference, but I believe that is wholly because I spent so long eating seadweller cuisine exclusively, my pan just wishes to expand its palette. Does…does that make sense?”

“As much sense as anything else you say sounds!” she said with a light giggle.

He let out a short, albeit awkward, chuckle. “You know, it is funny. I was so worried about something terrible happening before you got here. Perhaps I misinterpreted the night we scheduled, or I imagined everything or –”

“Or that I’m feigning my interest?”

He glanced up at her for a brief second, catching her doe eyes before immediately casting them down in embarrassment at the thought, fins fluttering. “A silly thought, but ah…yes. Blame it on the anx–”

She hurriedly leaned over and broke him off with a quick kiss. Dontoc barely even had a chance to register anything about it aside from the sudden, feather light touch and the brief taste of artificial strawberry from her lip gloss. “Please. I don’t feign my interest in anyone, _darling_. Certainly not someone as interesting and mysterious as you.” She took his hand again, tracing delicate lines up and down his fingers. “We’re matesprits, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” he said. “Matesprits. Right, sorry, I-I just aren’t - am not - quite–”

“It’s fine,” she said softly. “You’ll get over it eventually. I’m great for helping people.”

He nodded. He was just new at this. She was his first matesprit, an outsider like himself. And their relationship was new too. So it made sense he was anxious, or things felt strange and awkward. They didn’t know each other too well yet. This was expected. And one day, these would fade away.

He just hoped those feelings would fade away sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, if you want to listen to me talk about literally anything other than Homestuck right now (but mostly Persona), go ahead and check out my [Tumblr](chuckling-chemist.tumblr.com) or [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/stormscourge)


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